Life Is a Horizontal Fall
by Ship's Cat
Summary: It started out with one little misstep and then got worse.


**LIFE IS A HORIZONTAL FALL***

by

Gail Gardner

_*John Cocteau, Optum, 1930_

"Just let me take a look..." Nathan said tiredly.

"Oh nooo...mah foot is just fine. Ah can read you like a book Nathan. Once you get your hands on me you get that worried look and then you'll be tellin' Mr. Larabee that the whooole leg needs amputating" Standish snarled.

"Look Ezra..." The emotions flitting across the black man's face were as easy to read as a road map. Frustration, worry, care, exasperation and finally anger. "All right." He finished tersely.

"And don't go running to Josiah to complain. Ah'm not in the mood for a homily and lecture." Standish added peevishly. They had been coming back from lunch break when Ezra tripped slightly on the curb. It was more embarrassing than painful though he found it difficult to stand for a moment and had to lean on a convenient stop sign.

Seven weeks of hard work and three days of report writing had not improved tempers and feelings between the members of Team Seven. The insignificant things became bothersome, the bothersome irritating, the irritating all were laid at Ezra Standish's door.

Nathan, the patient, the forbearing, the semi-saint of the group exploded. "Dammit Ez just because you do undercover doesn't give you the right to prima donna around the rest of us." He growled as they both stalked through the lobby and got into an elevator. Other people planning on going up declined to join the two men for some strange reason. "We all work just as hard as you do."

"Hah!" Standish said scorn dripping from the one syllable.

"What do you mean 'hah'?" Nathan said and menaced the private space of the Southerner.

The elevator tinged politely signalling the men to leave and the fight to escalate.

"You wouldn't last two minutes undercover..no two seconds. What do you know about how hard my work is?"

Buck and Vin turned their heads to glance at the wrangling pair and then went back to working on reports. Nathan and Ezra fighting - what else was new?

"I can do undercover..." Nathan protested but not too assuredly. "It doesn't take anything more than acting talent."

"HAH!" The 'hah' was more acidic and capable of burning holes through titanium. "YOU" Standish pointed his finger rather pointedly at the other man's middle. "...couldn't act your way out of a paper bag. Much less even understand..."

"Now boys..." Josiah decided that a little peacekeeping was in order.

"Go away."

"Not now, Josiah."

Were the muttered rejoinders as the two men went to their desks bristling with spent tempers.

Once at his desk Ezra surreptitiously slid off his Italian loafer and flexed his foot experimentally. It still hurt, but only went he bent it a certain way which was easy enough to avoid.

Nathan devoted himself to re-reading what he'd written this morning but was still smarting from his team mates rather careless and cutting comments.

Chris had heard the little contretemps even from the relative sanctity of his office. He smiled wolfishly, well he had the cure for this little sickness.

He strolled out and waited in silence until everyone finally looked up even Ezra.

"Get your reports on my desk and then I don't want to see your ugly faces around here for at least a week."

"We got an extra leave? Whooo dogies! Put on your dancing shoes ladies Buck is free and on the prowl!" Wilmington hollered.

"Thank God." Josiah said prayerfully.

"Amen" Nathan intoned after him. A week without a fight from Standish would be paradise.

"Hey Ez!" JD bounced enthusiastically over to the undercover agent's desk. "Now we can go skiing like you promised! Remember your friend said you could stay at his lodge..." JD turned the full power of his puppy dog eyes on Standish. "Maybe even Casey could cut some classes..."

"I'm not sure..." Ezra temporized.

"He hurt his foot, but is too stubborn to admit it." Nathan said loudly. "He shouldn't go off skiing."

"Nonsense Mr. Jackson. I am quite fine and this will be a fine opportunity to do indulge in some _extreme _winter sport." He turned to JD. "Phone your paramour and I will make the arrangements for the lodge. We can drive up tomorrow morning early."

"Yes!" JD cheered.

"Reports first..." Larabee said trying to restore some decorum of a workplace and failing miserably as the men prepared for a week off. JD and Nathan were already on the phone to their ladies. Buck was consulting his little black book for ideas. Josiah and Vin were already planning a visit to a well-known junkyard in Wyoming to look for auto parts for the wrecks that they drove. Chris just turned his back on the happy chatter and went back to his office with a tired grin on his face.

A little judicial application of ice and a few aspirin had taken care of the sore leg quite nicely. The additional support of his fibreglass ski boots also made Standish forget about the minor injury, a bruise no less. Keeping up with JD was more of a worry. Without Casey to distract him - she would be joining them at the end of the week- Dunne managed to try every slope twice. Tumbles and spills were taken with as much enthusiasm as successful runs. Towards the end of the afternoon Standish felt more than just tired- he hurt all over.

JD leaned on his skiis and pushed his goggles up onto his head. After a day on the slopes he looked like a reverse racoon with white circles around his eyes where the goggles had been.

"One more run...old man?" He was obviously in an excellent mood to be risking baiting Standish.

"Last one down buys dinner?" Ezra figured that was a win win bet. If he won they wouldn't be eating hamburgers at the local Mac's and if he lost...well he wouldn't have to pay and he did feel a chocolate shake wouldn't be a bad thing.

"Sure!" JD knew that Standish was an excellent skier, but a little conservative in his style. As long as he didn't fall JD figured he'd win. He could taste the steak already.

They got up onto the ski lift. Being the middle of the week and not a busy time of the year there were only a few people using the lift. Matter of fact they almost had the whole mountain to themselves as many of the people had gravitated to the mogul runs where a competition was warming up. The ski boarders had their own runs.

They both enjoyed the scenery as the lift rose up the mountain.

"Hey look is that an elk?" JD pointed to a dark shape lunging through the deep snow towards a stand of trees. He leaned over Ezra to point out the animal. Standish twisted to look. JD leaned forwards even farther..."Wow that's a big one. Do you.." His words were cut off as the lift rose up over a tower and gave a little lurch. JD found himself slipping off the seat and scrabbled for a quick handhold which happened to be Standish - pulling him also off the seat. Already twisted in his seat, the tips of Ezra's ski tangled with each other and the leverage threw him off to one side. Standish found himself hanging on to the arm rest of the seat dangling about 20 feet over the snow. JD was hanging half on, half off the seat. The slick fashionable ski jacket guaranteed to keep out moisture and be waterproof was frictionless and he started to slide ungracefully off the seat.

"Just hang on JD." Standish said carefully trying not to lose his tenuous grip on the seat. "We'll be at the top in no time."

"Yeah sure. I'm okay." The young man was trying to pull himself up and managed to whack his friend with a flailing ski.

Ezra felt like an electric shock ran up from his leg to the top of his head. Luckily his reflex was to hang on and not let go. They were approaching another tower and then with a jerk and a whine the lift stopped. Both men were left readjusting handholds and swearing.

"Aw hell..." Ezra said between his teeth, "What idiot decided to stop the lift?"

"Someone must have pushed the panic button..." JD grunted and tried to get a better purchase on the slippery narrow seat. "Uh Ez...I'm not sure if I can hold on much longer..."

"Kick off your skiis. That will help." Standish fought for a tighter grip, but stopped when he noticed that his efforts seemed to unseat JD even more.

"My good Karhu skiis?" Dunne said plaintively but did as Standish advised. The chair rocked alarmingly as two sets of skiis went skittering off down the mountain.

"Look. It isn't too far down and there is a lot of snow below us. It should be an easy drop."

"No...I don't think so Ez..."JD said tensely.

"I'll drop first and then come and get you." Standish said reasonably.

"Okay. It doesn't look too bad." JD said with absurd trust in the older man's opinion.

Standish didn't have to force himself to let go...the ski lift gave a lurch to start up again and he fell into a world that was white and then strangely dark.

He had no idea just where he was but he knew that he was moving - a curiously disorientating feeling considering he was lying down. Several sensations, none of them pleasant, transmitted themselves to his waking brain in a split second of overload.

He couldn't move - yet he was moving in a strange undulating motion that was faintly nauseating. The sharp copper tang of blood seemed to fill his mouth and he found himself retching.

"...op again. He's aspirating." A disembodied voice along with several (several?) disembodied hands was turning him on one side and stuffing things in his mouth that he just as energetically tried to cough out.

"Easy there. You are all right." A face belonging to the voice swam into his sight.

Of course he wasn't all right. What right did this cretin have to tell him he was all right when obviously there was something wrong? And who in their right mind wore a fluorescent yellow hat with a big red cross in the center? The absurd thought of a 'shoot me' sign filtered through his head causing him to laugh which seemed to be a mistake as blood seemed to gush from his mouth in a fountain. His last thoughts before consciousness fled were verbalized for him.

"Sh..."

"Gee Ez you were really lucky. I mean just a bit tongue and your head banged up a bit! You just disappeared into that snow drift. I looked all over for you. Those ski patrol guys are real great! They found you and took you here by sled. It was real cool..." He saw the baleful look in Standish's eyes and shut his mouth with a snap.

The small clinic at the resort seemed quite well-equipped including a doctor who looked no older than JD.

"Well , you seem to have a slight concussion and that left leg of yours...we'll have to wait for the x-ray. Might be some damage that I can't see." He smiled

"Whad aboud mah thung?" Ezra cringed, he sounded horrible.

"Your thun...tongue will actually heal by itself. It is one of the few body parts that will grow back."

"Bwag? Thwen?"

"What? Oh ah when...couple of weeks and you'll be juth fwine." The young doctor tried to look serious. "I'll go get your x-ray."

"Um maybe you bether not talk much Eth." JD unconsciously mimicked the undercover agent's broken speech along with the doctor. "You thound wike Elmer Fwudd."

"Thwell. No thwquealling to the otherth. Thasey's coming - you than haf the lodgth to yourthefths."

"I don't know Eth..." as the snarl with the truncated tongue was rather awful, JD corrected himself carefully. "Ez-ra. What are you going to do?"

" Ah ...Bermutha...hot thun...thand..."

The young doctor came back with the x-ray and examined it carefully.

"Well, looks like a hairline fracture. We'll have to put it in a cast."

"Haiwhine frathure?

"Yes hairthwine. Not too seriouth. I've got some fibreglass casting materials that are quite wight and comthy."

"Bwack."

"Huh?"

"I think he wants it in the color black." JD translated helpfully.

_To be continued..._

_Author's note: I didn't finish this story in time for April...soooo I thought I would continue it using the May challenge. Hmmm. Supernatural theme, ah Bermuda what does that bring to mind?_


End file.
